


5 Times Will Graham Feels Okay and 1 Time He Also Feels Okay

by chaya



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Cannibalism, Fluff, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-29
Updated: 2013-07-07
Packaged: 2017-12-16 12:40:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 3,330
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/862133
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chaya/pseuds/chaya
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I'm not sure who needs these stories more - Will Graham or fandom.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> If you can't find it, make it yourself.

1.

Katz had warned him a few weeks in advance that although his position was a little unusual, Will was probably on the invite list to the company cookout.

"You really call it a _company_ cookout?" They're sitting in the lab, watching the centrifuge spin. Blood samples always take longer than Will expects.

Katz shrugs. "FBI investigators and consultants, paper company, it's all the same. Peer bonding, some food, a bit of conversation. Just fair warning. You'll probably get the email. Do what I do. Bring a plus one."

That sounded awful. "That sounds awful."

"No plus one, nobody to talk to. Price and Zeller always team up to spend the entire thing arguing over how to run the grill. Jack schmoozes with the big dogs trying to get us more lab time or who the hell knows."

"What about you?"

She smirks. "I"ll be with my plus one."

Anxiety is brought up the next day in his session with Dr. Lecter, so naturally the cookout is brought up. Will's not sure how it ends up happening, but he ends up bringing Hannibal and a cooler of drinks. Hannibal brings steaks. Price and Zeller are removed from the grilling area in the smoothest and most graceful way possible. Will catches a moment with Katz as she comes over to see what he brought.

"Just some sodas and beers, whatever the gas station had." He already sounds apologetic.

"Anything diet? Sven only drinks diet." She jerks a thumb over her shoulder. Sven is about 6 foot 8 and built like a Mack Truck.

"Um... Pepsi," Will manages, and she just gives him a Cheshire smile and plucks a can out from the ice before trotting back to the picnic bench.

It actually goes alright. Price and Zeller finally get to watch Hannibal cook after demonstrating good behavior - Jack breezes through every person for the requisite three minutes of small talk before circulating again, well within Will's threshold - Hannibal seems still in his element somehow, despite the gentle smoke curling up from the charcoal grill, and his rolled-up sleeves. The steaks are great.


	2. Chapter 2

2.

Cassy's some kind of malamute mix. She's smaller, though, and she can get a little snappy at whoever the newest dog in the family is. She never seems to be really interested in pulling rank until there's, quite literally, a new dog in town.

"She still isn't leaving you alone?"

Winston's ears droop in what Will can only read as assent - he gives a small whine and shifts his in the doorway, obviously waiting for permission to come into the bedroom.

Will shuts his book and resettles on the bed. "It's fine, come on. Come."

His tail perks a little as soon as he says it. Winston scrambles up and trots over to Will's side, only able to contain himself a few more moments before locating the nearest free spot on the bed (next to Will's feet) and pouncing onto it.

Will laughs quietly. "She'll get used to you. Don't worry about it... especially now that it's winter, she gets a little territorial near the space heater. Were you near the space heater?"

Winston doesn't deign to answer - his nose is tucked carefully underneath Will's left knee. Through the denim of his jeans he can feel the doggish huff that is a sigh.

"She's a good dog, really. You wanna know where I found her?" Winston likes to be scratched at the nape of his neck, so Will has to sit up a little to reach. It's worth it. Winston's tail begins thumping rhythmically against his ankle. "About a block away from the campus. There was construction blocking a lane, I had to take a u-turn... anyway, I ended up driving behind this strip mall, back where the huge garbage bins are, and guess who was back there? Huh?" Scratch, scratch. "You wouldn't have recognized her. Ten pounds lighter, five shades darker." Winston's nose reappears from under Will's leg and takes up residence on his lap. His eyes are closed and somewhere between contented and sleepy. "You're family. Even to her... she just takes a little longer to act like it."

Another soft huff. Will leans back on the headboard, Winston's neck now easily in scratching distance, and gazes off into the middle space. He doesn't remember falling asleep.


	3. Chapter 3

3.

Class is canceled for inclement weather. The government has shut down and the eye of the storm is over Fort Myer when Will starts to hear the rain start to hit his roof, first soft, then like a deluge.

Will leans back in his chair for a moment, eyes closed, and just listens to the sound. His deep breath takes in the smell of the coffee being very nearly done next door in the kitchen. Under the couch, he hears the familiar soft cries have already started - he gets up and crouches down to peek underneath, reaching under to stroke what he can get to of Ebeneezer's back before he finally comes out.

"C'mon, big guy. Just like before." He rounds the sofa, flops down, and pats his chest expectantly. Ebeneezer shuffles forward slowly until the thunder cracks, and then he knocks the wind out of Will's body with how quick he jumps up.

Time passes. His phone chimes with a text - he already knows it's Hannibal reminding him to be safe in the storm. Will smiles a little. It's nice to have someone who knows that he doesn't need to be told to be careful, but says it because he knows it'll show he cares.

Ebeneezer has finally gotten comfortable, half on the back of the sofa and half crushing Will's lungs. At least he seems happy. Cassy's not far behind, deciding on the spot on the floor in perfect reach for Will to stroke her head. Winston, timidly, joins a few minutes later and just watches them from the chair, eyes blinking slowly in half-sleep. Will leans back and stares at the ceiling. The rain keeps the sky dark for another few hours. It's nice.


	4. Chapter 4

4.

"So where are we going?"

"Tyson's Corner." Hannibal straightens the lapels of his suit. "It's a short trip from your home, and it's relatively affordable. You've already declined my offer several times to simply buy what would suit you."

Will winces. "I can't... impose on you like that." He looks around for a jacket to put on as Hannibal seems set on leaving now. "I mean, you already paid for both our tickets, and... you're just, you're too nice. Have people told you this before?"

A peculiar sort of amusement crosses Hannibal's face. "On occasion."

Hannibal turns out to be right - Tyson's isn't far, and it's far less expensive than whatever hand-tailored jewel-encrusted god-knows-what Hannibal would have gotten him. From the corner of his eye Will spots a few department store employees watching them as they look at slacks. He wonders if they think Hannibal is his personal shopper, or, funnier, his boyfriend. Hannibal catches his amused grin but does not ask about it.

Hannibal lets him win the argument on whether or not he needs to wear a tie, so Will can't say anything when Hannibal lets himself into the dressing room and begins adjusting the jacket on his shoulders, smoothing the lapels and straightening Will's shoulders.

"It certainly looks more.... modern," Will attempts, "than what I wear when I'm teaching."

Hannibal kneels down smoothly and checks where the hem of the slacks break against his shoes. "Unbutton the second button." Apparently there are some barriers between them yet. Will's a little relieved. "I definitely can't convince you into just coming with me to my tailor?"

"For the last time, I couldn't afford it. And I certainly can't allow _you_ to afford it _for_ me." He shoots his cuffs, pretending he knows what that's even supposed to do, and to his surprise Hannibal's face does something strange. Either he did it right or he did it so wrong Hannibal can't completely conceal his judgement. "They'll let me into the opera in this, right?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> http://www.herworldplus.com/sites/default/files/hugh%20dancy%20lazy%20style.jpg This. Ish.


	5. Chapter 5

5.

Freddie Lounds trips once, during one of her stalking sessions near a crime scene. She completely faceplants into the sidewalk. Will barks out a laugh before he can stop himself, and Katz keeps it together until she sees the woman stumble to her feet, clearly furious with herself, and try to continue on as if nothing's happened.

"You forgot your camera," Price says, strategically waiting until Freddie has made it a few yards, and they lose it again as she curses audibly and turns around to fetch it from where it fell by a mailbox.

They retell the story for weeks.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one starts off with a murder case characteristic of the show - so be warned, there's some blood before the fluff.

They're at the waterfront when Will feels himself slipping.

It was obvious when he got there how everything had happened, that Jack's suspicion was right. These deaths weren't accidental. Fatalities are common when someone slips between a tied-off boat and the dock, sure; even if you don't get injured on the way down, you get crushed between the boat and the dock and your death is a slow, painful drowning. This was the fourth in as many nights, though, and this goes against statistics. It's too much of a coincidence that all of them have the same hand stamp from the same bar. Someone is killing them and disguising it as an accident.

"It's someone who knows the area... probably a local," he's panting on the ground as everyone huddles around him. "The victims don't resemble each other because the killer doesn't know who murdered his son."

"There's a son in the picture now?" Jack pushes past someone and kneels down to stare into Will's face. This always happens. Jack brings him to these scenes and wants Will to absorb everything and spit out straight concise answers. It's not that simple.

"Maybe his daughter, but I don't think so. He's... he's avenging his child. They were... the son was probably on a boat when it happened, got crashed into by someone in a bigger boat, someone drunk, someone speeding..." Will swears he can taste sea water rising up inside him instead of bile. "They never caught who did it, this guy got a dead kid and no answers. He sees these tourists come in all the time with huge flashy boats they can't run, stumbling in and out of these bars by the water... if they didn't do it, he thinks, they're close enough, he'll take them out before they can get in the boat, the keys, he always waits until the _keys_ are out..."

Will fades out for a few minutes. He feels lightheaded when he comes back, standing a few feet away from where he was and holding an empty cup. His lips are wet. He's never drunk water while losing time before.

"Something new to worry about every day," he mutters to his feet.

He tries to focus on something. Alana is having a hushed and hurried discussion with an old man pulling lumber off a tugboat. He's barely paying attention to her until she sighs and reaches to open her cross-body purse. He puts the lumber down. He looks like he's trying to play hard to get about something. Is she bribing information out of him? Why isn't Jack involved in this?

Someone's coming towards him and he realizes it's Katz. She has that line between her eyebrows, the one that means she's worried about him - she follows his line of vision and sees Alana, straightens her back, and turns that way instead. Good. Someone should make sure Bloom's not accidentally contaminating a witness testimony. Will tries to picture it. Maybe this guy was homeless, slept on the boat, was there between 11 pm and 2 am and heard the struggle, saw a face, recognized the car that pulled away...

Katz is asking Alana something. Alana's talking very quickly, then hesitates, then gestures minutely in the direction of... Will. Odd. Katz looks back at Alana like she's crazy, the old man kind of is too, but a couple rushed sentences later and Katz turns to the old man as well, bargaining something, pulling out her wallet. He's shaking his head and looking unimpressed. Katz spits out a few words at Alana and makes a beeline for Jack, halfway down the parking lot.

Jack doesn't look like he wants to be bothered. Katz doesn't look like she cares. Gesturing, talking, more gesturing, then closing in to get in his face a little bit. Not like she's angry, but like she's really trying to bring something home. Will chews his lip, fascinated.

Jack looks over at the man, at the boat. Is he skeptical that the man has valid testimony? Why not just bring him in and interrogate him officially? Why did Alana instigate this? A moment passes, and then Jack is sidling between two cars, pulling out his wallet, sliding Katz several bills while making it look like he's checking his phone. Katz seems satisfied. Returns to Alana. They combine the three sets of bills and hand it off to the man. He's got a huge smile on his face now, nodding happily, but what he gives Katz Will can't see because Katz snatches it away, clearly feeling that they paid too much for whatever it is, and Will tries to look around Katz to see if the man is telling Alana something, giving a description, a shirt color, anything...

"Will." Katz is walking over and has something in her hand. She's bringing it to him.

"You need to bag it, whatever it is." Will's voice is croaking in spite of the water he apparently drank. Maybe he vomited? Was the sea water he felt only partly a hallucination?

"Bag what?" Katz looks down at her hand, then at Will again, rolls her eyes. "It's not evidence. This- this isn't about the case. Put the case down for a minute."

"I don't understand." Alana's going back to her car, but she's got her chin tilted up. She's seeking out Jack's attention just long enough to give him a nod of recognition. Will feels like something's been done involving him and he has no idea what.

"You are officially on break for the next forty-eight hours. We have way more info on these deaths than we did this morning-"

"From that man?"

"No, from _you_. You've done more than enough for a day. A week, if you ask me. Listen. Take these."

She grabs his hand, opens it, pushes a floating key chain into it. One key. Old.

Will blinks. "I ... I don't."

"Alana said you like boats. Ships. Ocean. Right?" Katz kneels down a little to get into his line of vision, to catch his eye. It's like the inverse of Jack several minutes ago. He can't catch up with this situation. "She talked that guy into letting us rent his... his thing. That thing." She steps back and points at the tugboat. "What do you think?"

Will stops staring at the key so he can stare at the boat. It's swaying rhythmically with the water, creaking as the bumpers press into the old wood of the dock. It's got to be at least forty years old.

"Leave your phone on." Jack is suddenly next to him, looking stiff, pressing something into his chest. Will grabs it and it's a bag lunch. Where did this come from? (He is already too overstimulated to hear the weak protests of a beat cop several yards behind him.) "I'll call you if anything comes up. Otherwise... relax." He's gone as quickly as he came.

Katz puts her hands on her hips, equally pleased and dead serious. "So, yeah. Boss signed off on this, you're good." Is this what being forcibly mothered feels like? "Go out, take the day, hang out with some seagulls. Do Will stuff."

\------

Will has to use the choke three times to get the engine flooded right, but the old girl starts up at last and he pulls it into reverse to edge it away from the dock. He feels more embarrassed than anything else - some cops have lingered to see if this boat rental thing is part of his crazy schtick, and he's still not sure why Alana thought this was a good idea. He knows boats, yes, but... what is he supposed to do with this? No matter what he does, he has to get it onto the Potomac and escape these looks he's getting.

"Jesus. _Jesus._ " The engine's still not fully settled into a rhythm. It gives a few warning clunks as he begins to push forward, immeasurably grateful that nobody else is leaving the dock, that no locals can see some random freak borrowing a boat they'd surely recognize, and he spends five minutes navigating his way out trying to find a speed that will keep the engine going but won't make so much wake as to damage everything docked in a fifteen foot radius. The outboard needs serious maintenance.

Another ten minutes. Will still feels ridiculous. He is in open water now, looking around at the random sprinkling of sailboats that are milling around nearby. Some seagulls are bobbing in a group to his left. The stolen bag lunch on the other seat smells like avocado.

Five more minutes. He's pushed further out, right to where the mainland on either side of him is a thin green and grey strip atop a bed of soft blue. The sun is well past its highest point and the avocado smell has won him over. He cuts the engine, not bothering with the anchor - it's perfectly mild out, no choppiness, no waves - and finds a comfortable spot leaning against the bridge ladder to eat his stolen goods. Some seagulls cry a ways off in the distance. He's not bothered. He's alone enough.

Ten more minutes. He finds the trash bag under a seat that looks like it's actually being used for trash, not for old life preservers like the first two he checked were, and tucks the empty bag and water bottle into it. It's almost overflowing with fast food bags and, to his surprise, one empty bottle which once contained some very expensive red wine. The old man had at least one expensive taste after all. Will can't help but smile.

Another hour. The sea air is completely enveloping him, and the gentle rock of the boat is coaxing him into a nap. Will tugs down the tattered bucket hat he found on the dashboard and leans back, lacing his fingers together over his sternum. He breathes deeply, holds it, and is already nodding off as he exhales.

Another half hour. Gentle rain wets his jeans, his sweater, and finally his bare hands. He wakes blinking into the top of the hat and tugs it off his face, sitting up to look around. He's not covered in sweat. The clouds are just heavy enough to dot the surface of the river with concentric circles. Will gets to his feet automatically to seek out the shelter of the wheelhouse but stops, mid-crouch, and thinks better of it. Folds his hat into a small but adequate pillow and lays back down, eyes blinking up at the faintly darkened sky. A drop lands in the crease of his left eye and he flinches far more than is necessary. He can't help but laugh at himself. The rain is perfect. He didn't know he wanted it so badly.

Three more hours. The sunset plays colors over the grimy windows of the bridge, yellow to orange to gold. He watches with his feet propped on the dash, stretched out, silent.

Two more hours. The emerging stars are complemented by every tiny light on the shore. The closest lighthouse on the Maryland side casts odd shadows over the deck every few moments. Will watches it and lets his mind empty out. Light, dark. Light, dark. The boat rocks him into something like calm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this after a very long dry spell of not writing anything at all. I did not expect many readers, let alone positive reinforcement. You guys are stars. I hope you enjoyed reading this as much as I enjoyed your compliments and encouragements.


End file.
